Red, the Color of Love
by HannahTheLoneWolfForever2
Summary: Meet Annabeth Chase. The hottest (and smartest) model you'll ever know. Cue Percy Jackson, a boy with a troublemaker smile that is also in desperate need of a job. When an employee shortage forces the two to work together, will it be love at first sight? Or will the two end up killing each other? Adopted from DDaughterofAthena and written by Hannah Forever and ReynaTheLoneWolf


Chapter One:

Annabeth POV:

Here I am, driving back through Virginia to my parents' home. It's been almost fifteen years since I last saw them, ah how time flies. And I can't say those fifteen years were kind to me, but at least they weren't the worst of my life.

I swing into the driveway and hesitantly climb out of the car. I've always been a confident person, so I have no idea why I'm freezing up now, faced with the people I should love above all else. I don't, however. My father only wanted me back in his life because I'm famous; I'm sure of it.

I ring the doorbell and pull my hair into a ponytail. Hey, just because I'm a model doesn't mean I can't enjoy the jeans, tee-shirts, and ponytails that I used to, or go a day without paparazzi following my every move. Although stereotypes suggest otherwise, I've never been really into the idea that models are perfect, because even though I am one of the more famous ones, I've always been very open about my flaws, I kind of rock the "broken but beautiful" look more than anything else, hence the reason I don't hide the scars on my wrists. It was hard in the beginning, being myself and not hiding my scars, but it became easier as time went on. And although I don't draw attention to them, I don't hide them, either.

"Annabeth." Helen, my stepmom greets me at the door. "Come on in, dear. Dinner's almost ready."

"Um... hi, thanks," I say, stepping into the foyer.

"No problem, dear. Your room is at the top of the stairs, on the right."

"Thanks," I say, hauling my suitcases up the stairs to my room. It's simple, a guest room, I'm willing to bet, but I've never been one for extravagance, so I don't mind. I actually kind of like it.  
I'm unpacked in half an hour, so I flop down on the bed and pull up my Instagram feed. It's been a while since I did this; I'm not a huge fan of Insta, but it's been a year since tragedy struck, and as everyone knows, you have to look at memories after a tragedy; it's only natural. And so that's what I do.

See, last year, two of our more famous models, Bianca Di Angelo and Zoe Nightshade, got into a severe car accident, which killed Zoe instantly, and caused Bianca to fall into a coma, from which she has yet to wake up from. We were all close; people called us the Super Six, but we're anything from super now. Zoe's dead, Bianca's comatose, Hazel's retreated inwards a lot, Calypso quit modeling, I'm going back to college, and Reyna and Jason have been going steady for three months now, turning us all slightly away from each other. We're all still friends, and we also made friends with a newer model, Piper McLean, but we'll never truly go back to the Super Six.

"Annabeth! Dinner!" my half-brother, Matthew, calls up the stairs.

"Coming," I call down, feeling relieved that I'm only here for a week. It's really awkward being in the home of a family I don't know, and it's even worse when they call me by my stage name, instead of my real name, Anna Elizabeth. I didn't change my last name, even though I probably should've. I, instead, decided to blend Anna and Elizabeth together to make a stage name, and keep my last name, especially since it reminds me of the good times before my mother walked out, and my father married Helen.

Dinner is an awkward affair. Helen tries to catch me up on fifteen years of small-town gossip, which I could care less about, Bobby complains that Dad was supposed to help him learn how to drive, and Dad says he can't do it because he has research, and tries to see if I can. I agree, trying not to roll my eyes.

After dinner, I head back to my room to see that I have three missed calls from my agent, Rebecca, who's trying to get me to move to a different studio, which I refuse to do. I'm not leaving the studio that helped me make it. There's also a call from Luke, my boyfriend.

"Luke?" I asked, flopping down on the bed.

"Anna!" Luke says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

"What's up?" I ask.

"Nothing. I'm just hanging out with Chris and the guys."

"Ah. How are they?"

"Good. How's your family?"

"Okay. I somehow got signed up to take my fifteen-year-old brother driving. I'm glad I don't have a fancy car."

"Let me buy you one, Annie."

"Don't call me Annie. My name is Anna, AND, no."

"But Anna," Luke whines. He's a huge car guy; an obsession I'll never understand myself.

"If I want a nice car, I'll build my own. But you don't see me building anything, do you?"

"No."

"There you go then. Listen, Luke, I have to call Rebecca back. I'll call you later."

"Okay. Bye, Anna."

"Bye, Luke." I sigh as I hang up, and dial Rebecca.

"Anna?"

"Yeah?"

"I have some bad news."

"What's wrong?" I ask, rolling my eyes. Everything's bad news, as far as she's concerned, if I don't get a job, and she doesn't get paid more.

"Selena and Charles had a baby."

"How is that bad news? I'm glad for them." I say, rolling my eyes yet again.

"Selena and Charles want to quit their jobs and settle down to where they can take care of their baby. Also, Travis and Katie broke up, which depressed Katie so much she quit. Travis moved to LA."

"So we're four short?" I ask, sighing. This isn't the first time this has happened.

"Correct."  
"Well, I can take care of myself. I don't have to have an assistant. I'll be fine."

"Anna, you are the It-girl of countless magazines."

"I'm aware. What does this have to do with me having an assistant or not?"

"It means that you need one."

"No, it means that I'll be slightly more stressed out. Don't worry about it, Rebecca. I'm tired; I'm gonna get some shuteye."

"We got some good news, though. A magazine is willing to interview you tomorrow."

"Rebecca, I'm in Virginia. I'm not driving four hours back to NYC for an interview. I'm sorry. I know you wanted me to do it, but I'm on vacation right now. Let me enjoy it. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

"Fine. Night, Anna."

"Good night, Rebecca."

I hang up, snap off the light, and climb into bed, turning on my 'sleep' playlist. I wind up falling asleep quickly, with my last thought before I drift off being, "This is bound to get interesting."


End file.
